An Impossible Task
by Veritathea
Summary: Professor Snape would want nothing more than make the Dark Mark disappear forever. But in order to do this, he is handed an impossible task.
1. Prologue

Autor's Note: If you are reading this, I am already grateful. This is my first attempt at any fanfiction, and my first language is Norwegian, not English. So if there are any mistakes, please be patient with me, and feel free to point them out. Also, I have no Beta, but if anyone out there would like the job, please don't hesitate to ask! Thank you for reading, and please tell me what you think of it, so I can improve myself!:) Cheers, Verita**thea**

Disclaimer: I do not in any way claim to own anything Harry Potter, nor am I J. K. Rowling. No profit is being made of this story, only the joy of writing about such wonderful characters and places. All that I own is the plot.

"To be an angel, one need not have wings.  
>In giving love there is an equal grace.<br>Nor need one seek the aura in the face,  
>As love unveils the beauty of all things."<p>

- Francois Couperin

"What?" The tall, black clad man quickly spun on his heel and stared furiously at the elderly wizard standing before him. The other offered no reaction to the younger's outburst, only looking solemnly at him over the top of his half moon spectacles. It was clear that he was a very wise and patient man, that was not unfamiliar with this kind of emotional display.

"Albus, you cannot possibly be serious!" Snape continued as he started pacing the large office, his black robe billowing behind him like only the bat of the dungeons could master. The ever-present frown deepened as he thought of what he had just been told.

"Have you finally gone barmy, you old fool! You don't think for a second that you can convince me to believing in _angels_! What's next, you'll be spending the holidays with Father Christmas?" At these last words, he turned one final time and sank down into a large stuffed winged armchair by the fireplace.

"Please, Albus, tell me this is a late April Fools, and that I'm not about to place my final hope in a creature from a religion I don't even believe in," he whispered and lowered his head into his hands.

"I am sorry Severus, but Marcus was very specific and utterly convinced that this is the only solution." Dumbledore gently laid a hand on Snape's shoulder, and squeezed it compassionately. As the lean man stiffened under his touch, he chuckled sadly and gave the rigid shoulder one last pat before letting go.

"Oh Severus..." Dumbledore sighed. "How can you even think about finding an Angel to help you when you can't even stand an innocent touch from a friend you've known for most of your life?" he wandered over to his desk and sat heavily down in his worn chair. For a while all that filled the heavy silence was the buzzing from all the magical components around the room. In the Pensieve a silvery memory whirled soundlessly, and the afternoon sun shone lazy in through the stained glass windows, making various colours fall onto the sandstone floor.

Then at last, Snape stood and drew his robes around him like a shiled. His jaw was set and his eyes like stone when he aswered.

"I have no intention of attepting to find this imaginary creature. There must be something concrete and reliable that can cure me, and I will do real research instead of kneeling in churches." At this he bowed to his employer, and uttered "Albus" as a parting word, before he swept out of the office.

"Now listen, Severus!" Dumbledore stood and placed his hands at the desk, trying to call the imposing man back. But if he heard, he chose to ignore it.


	2. Chapter 1

So sorry for the incredibly late update. At least, here it the first chapter.

Sitting in the most secluded part of the library was Severus Snape, Potions Master and professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Irritably, he was tapping his eagle-feather quill on the infuriatingly blank parchment situated in front of him, leaving ugly ink splotches all over it.

He wore a deep scowl and a nasty sneer, something one rarely did see him without. Notwithstanding, it seemed even darker than it customary was on a Friday afternoon. If an unlucky student should happen to stumble upon him here, tucked away in the deepest corner of the Restricted Section, they were unlikely to bother him. In fact, the brat would probably flee as fast as his legs would carry him.

This was what Snape opted for. He couldn't afford to be interrupted at such a critical moment of his research. Suddenly, he snorted. Who was he kidding? There was no research to speak of. He threw down the elegant quill, and crumpled the parchment in his hands. Not any of the books piled high around him had been able to provide any sort of information that could be of any use. He had searched through all the library books containing any reference to removal of magically inflicted objects or the like, with no luck. And there were few things Severus Snape detested more than lack of progress.

With a flick of his wand he sent the books soaring back to their shelves. There was _one_ book though, that he had not been able to get hold of, and that was why Snape currently was marching up to Madam Pince's desk.

"Irma," he said, his irritation evident in his voice. The librarian looked up from the letter she was writing, presumably to place an order with Borgin and Burke's.

"Yes, Severus?" she answered, pointedly looking at his empty hands.

"I am bound to inquire about the location of a book of yours," he snapped at her, annoyed with her lack of respect for his dilemma. Still she regarded him with a calmness that made him slap his hand flat on her desktop. The nerve of that woman!

"And which book is it that you are looking for?" She asked him, tugging her papers from under his palm, easing out the wrinkles with a firm hand. She eyed him warily over her spectacles, as if afraid he'd hurt her precious books next.

"_Ridding Oneself of Dark Magic_ by Gilbert Astrophel Barenshill," he replied, watching as the witch opened up a record book and spoke an incantation. The book turned a page by itself, and a name suddenly started glowing in blue ink. "_Hermione Granger_" it said.

Madam Pince tutted under her breath and closed the book lovingly.

"It seems," she said "That Miss Granger borrowed it only yesterday. If you will wait, I am positive she will return it by the end of the week."

Snape gritted his teeth. "It most certainly cannot wait!" he growled, and set out for Gryffindor Tower.

Hermione Granger sat quietly in a squashy armchair by one of the tall windows of Gryffindor Tower, cradling the prodigious tome in her lap. She knew she probably ought to be concentrating on her homework, but everything left was Muggle Studies for the next week, so she had given herself some time off to do something more enjoyable. She was devouring the pages of this very interesting book, soaking up its knowledge.

Her best friends, Harry and Ron, sat playing a game of Wizards Chess by the fireplace, Ginny practically sitting on Harry's lap on the couch they were sharing. Hermione did not want to engage in their game, nor was she asked to. She had never much cared for Wizards Chess, disliking it for its brutality, and ever since the Giant Chessboard had beat Ron up in first year, her detest for it had increased. The boys were aware of this, as they had tried convincing her to join them many a time. All of a sudden, a white knight came flying through the air straight towards her, having been knocked right off the board by Ron's queen, and landed with a thump on the rug beneath her.

"Check!" Ron whooped, while Harry groaned and put his head into his hands. An affectionate smile replaced the irritation on Hermione's face. The situation was so familiar. How many times had the day not passed like this – quietly sitting in the common room listening to Harry being beaten by Ron in Wizards Chess.

_**Boom!**_

Except this morning wasn't quiet anymore, and definitely not normal. The portrait of the Fat Lady was swung open so hard that it rattled and shook as it hit the wall, The Fat Lady cursing the tall, dark man entering Gryffindor Tower. It seemed as if the room was holding its breath – and it probably was – as everyone waited to know why the Potions Master and Head of Slytherin had entered their sanctuary. Gryffindors were indeed known to be rash and brave, but they had all learned their lesson concerning Snape, having attended his classes for years.

Today, he looked as if he would crush whoever came to cross him underneath the sole of his dragonhide boots. When his infuriated gaze finally landed on Hermione and glinted maliciously, she shrunk back into the comfortable chair, trying to make herself as small as possible. _Oh no_, she thought, wracking her brains. _What did I do to enrage him now?_ She could not come up with a single happening – well, recent that is – which would make him so terribly angry.

While her mind had been wandering, Professor Snape had approached her seat, and was currently looming over her, casting deep shadows upon her face. She was positively trapped, and his presence was extremely overwhelming.

"Miss Granger," he purred silkily. Hermione supressed a shudder at the sheer dangerousness of his tone.

"Sir?" she replied, embarrassed when it came out in a slightly higher tone than she had planned. At the sound of her voice, his lip curled dangerously, and he placed his hands on the armrests on either side of her body, bending down. His eyes flickered to the book in her lap, and Hermione brought it up to her chest, encircling it in her embrace. She was not sure if it was a defence mechanism for her or the engaging book.

"May I inquire as to what you are reading?" he snarled. Her arms instinctively tightened around the thick tome, and her confusion was clearly written across her face. In another situation – one not so pressing and urgent – Hermione imagined laughing. It was certainly a phrase she had never imagined passing Professor Snape's lips. He never took interest in anyone that were not doing anything he might punish them for. However, she was in fact quite sure that she was about to be punished. _But for what? Reading?_

"Umm…" Hermione faltered, not sure what her best tactic would be. _Well, I guess honesty is the best policy, _she thought to herself, glancing down at the book in her clutch. "Well, professor, sir… It's "_Ridding Oneself of Dark Magic_. Just something I picked up in the library." _However can this be relevant to him?_ she wondered. But it clearly was, for his eyes gleamed maliciously, and he straightened, holding out his hand. She stared at it. It seemed her wits had abandoned her in this bizarre moment, and she lifted her eyes to his face and back again.

"Give it to me. Now," her professor demanded, flicking his fingers slightly.

"But sir!" Hermione spluttered. She was in the middle of a most intriguing chapter, and was loth to give it up no.

"Miss Granger!" he barked impatiently, fury dancing in his eyes and easily spotted in his stiff pose. "I will not ask you again. Give. Me. The. Book!"

Hermione rose to her feet, still tightly holding onto the book. "No, sir, sorry. I wish to finish it, but I can give it to you when I'm done." The room seemed to draw a collected breath of air, anticipating what would come next.

Professor Snape grabbed her by the upper arms, and his force was extraordinary, surely bruising her in his anger. Hermione gasped in shock and recoiled from his frightening persona. _Whatever could be so urgent?_

"Seventy points from Gryffindor. Now hand me that book," he hissed, tightening his hands. To Hermione's horror, a tear made its way down her face, despite her attempts on the contrary. In humiliation she thrust the book at him, and when he let go in order to catch it before it fell, she choked back a sob and ran from the room, her footsteps quickly fading on the hard stone.


	3. Note

Although nobody will probably read this, I feel like I need to update. I have "kind of" abandoned my story, but it may only be temporary. Having aged (I was one of the underage children reading your stories, guys... ;)) a bit has made me see that my Snape and Hermione were both totally out of character (Snape never would have ventured into the Gryffindor Common Room, he would rather call upon her after class or fall upon her in the corridors - or sent a note for heaven's sake! He has more control over his emotions than that. And so does Hermione. She would never break down like that. She's not hysterical, after all...!), and I can no longer bear to write with them as they are. The whole story will have to be changed, though the plot might withstand the damage. I don't know yet if I will ever rewrite it, but I can at least have the decency to tell you that I think about it often (with shame and regret).

I do have one other fanfic on the way, though. Again, I don't know if I will make it public, but I've certainly not abandoned either my OTP (3) or writing.

So long - I will at least be back to nominee and vote in January 2015! (And I'm constantly reading and rereading stories).

Veritathea


	4. Fragment of chapter 2

**If anyone is interested, I found what I have written for the start of next chapter laying around on my old computer. It is unfinished, unpolished and not any good, but I'm posting it here all the same:**

Caring not for the loud slapping of her flat soles against the chilly stone floor, Hermione turned sharply to the left once she successfully – and most impressively – made it through the portrait hole with the grace and speed of a panicked antelope. Thinking only of finding a quiet spot to collect herself and think some, she purposely headed to the usually deserted parts of the castle.

With Hogwarts being so extensive, it was impossible to keep the whole thing up and running, as there were only about 400 people currently living here. Therefore, most classrooms were located fairly close to the Great Hall (with the exception of the classes such as Herbology and Potions), with it being the heart of their daily life, allowing people of all ages to meet and chat at set times. And as the Great Hall was placed in the middle and a little to the front of the castle, and with Hogwarts being a most asymmetrical building, the North-Eastern section was deemed to be too far away.

In all her nightly (and daily) adventures with Ron and Harry, there never had been any real need to venture all the way into this particular area. Having lived already six years at Hogwarts, she felt like she knew its layout fairly well – as well as can be expected when dealing with an ever-changing magical castle. But even so, there always seemed to be another corridor she had never been down, a stairwell that wasn't there yesterday… That being the case with the occupied part, running wildly around the abandoned area might not be a very good idea. But Hermione did not think about this, nor would she have cared, for her mind was centred round that utterly humiliating scene, and she followed the instinct that told her to run, run, run. Go lick your wounds in a private place.

Never being one to take leave of her senses, though, she did keep track of the way she was headed, mentally remembering the directions back towards Gryffindor Tower. As she rounded the corner past the Transfigurations classroom, she turned right, left, left, right, straight forward, straight forward, right, left, left, straight forward, down a stairwell, right, down again, straight forward, left… Until she eventually lost count, and stopped. Looking around the dark corridor, she did not have any idea where she was. There were no windows, and it seemed to go on and on and on in front of her. Looking back did not help her either. Cobwebs clung to the torches, and it smelled faintly of mold.

Hermione wiped away the tears on her cheeks and lit her wand. The new light source did nothing to improve the hallway. Unable to think of anything to do but walk on, she proceeded. Eventually she came to halt in a little chamber, in which there was a comfortable-looking – if old – blue chaise longue and a low mahogany table. A single, large arched window with a Victorian feel to it was on the far wall of the little room, through which Hermione could see what looked to be a small courtyard, with a fountain in the middle. Sighing, she sank down onto the longue, carefully propping her feet up on the rich material, and began thinking.

It wasn't so much that the book was taken from her, that had her in such a state, but the fact that she had indeed cried in front of him. After the episode with her teeth in 4th year, she had sworn to herself to be strong in his presence. Not only because it humiliated her, but because he would think worse of her. You see, Severus Snape was a person Hermione secretly looked up to. He had many qualities that she valued, including intelligence, attention, focus and self-discipline. With this in mind, she softly fell asleep, exhausted from her long run, and did not wake for a long time.


End file.
